


Exhibition

by Grondfic



Category: Dark Is Rising Sequence - Susan Cooper
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 06:45:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7704496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grondfic/pseuds/Grondfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a short coda to <i>A Kind of Magic</i>:</p><p>http://archiveofourown.org/works/7693708/chapters/17528248</p><p>A glimpse of Barney and Will post <i>Kind of Magic</i> at an art exhibition which is invaded by some of Will's family intent on checking-out the new boyfriend. It's also a bit of a satire on the 1990s art scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exhibition

“This isn’t what I expected at all!”

“Art galleries don’t have to be subdued and reverend any more, Paul! Mind you – even MY events weren’t as … varied as this! Christ! Is that guy really dressed as a Berserker? Lots of New-Agers of course; and that’s a bona fide art critic over there! Well – if we’re to report back to Mum, we’d better plunge into the melee and find the lovebirds. Listen – when we do, I want you to take Will and leave this Drew character to me! I’ll soon sort HIM out – no worries! Stuck-up retro git!”

“Take it easy, Max, will you? Mum never mentioned we had to sort anyone out …. “

“I’m a fellow-artist! I’m sure we’ll understand one another!” Max grinned like a coyote, and waded through clumps of guests with the ease of long practice.

* * * *

“Wasn’t that …?”

“Yes – what in hell’s he doing here? Checking out the opposition?”

Peter McIntyre watched as the grey-streaked ponytail bobbed away through the crowd.

“MaXXi-Ess, the sheep-shit sculptor and formaldehyde-fish-tank-fabricator!” he muttered, “I don’t think Barney’s style would appeal to him somehow.”

“MaXXi-Ess?” queried Gary Peck the gossip columnist, with a superior little moue, “No – now that he’s got that Chair at Goldminers College, he’s working under his real name again – Professor Max Stanton!”

His eyes, in their bushy hideout, were speculative.

“Stanton? Oh … ah! Must be the older brother. Strange – Will never mentioned him. Well now - that does explain things! Best not to get embroiled in family matters, eh Gary?” said Peter nervously.

Peck – whose business it was to collect these snippets of information, and stitch them, patchwork-like, into coherent, scurrilous newspaper columns – smiled benignly; and proposed that they search out the champagne-buffet, there to wait out any repercussions.

* * * *

Max was taking a circuitous route around the gallery; allowing Paul time to locate their youngest brother and haul him gently off, before he homed in on The New Boyfriend. It also gave him an opportunity to check out the guy’s work.

Mum and Dad had been a mite concerned, even before this. Will had been hit pretty hard when poor old Steve bought it in Bluff Cove some years ago. 

The family had thought he’d got over the tragedy, and had settled quite well at the Institute. But then Will had turned up at home out of the blue, sat his bemused parents down; and revealed – not just his sexual orientation (which, to be fair, most of his siblings had already guessed) – but also this new, apparently long-term relationship. 

“We don’t see enough of him as it is!” Dad’s voice had told him down the phone, “And now … did you know he’s given this boy Stephen’s Carnival Head? That upset your Mother considerably … of course, we HAD guessed about Will; we’re not THAT antiquated. There’s no shame in it these days; although Mum WAS rather hoping it was just a phase. But that’s neither here nor there! What we were wondering, Max, is whether you and Paul could just … check things out, y’know? Make sure this boy is ..erm … kosher and all that. It’s easier for you – living in London. And anyway, Will says the guy’s an artist – that was his excuse for giving the Mask away …. “

Actually, Max had felt a bit resentful. It was usually HIS job to get Mum and Dad in a tizz with his outré lifestyle and complicated love life!

However, since he’d accepted the Goldminers Chair with its useful, regular salary, he’d been able to arrange a proper maintenance settlement with Debs for the kids. This had instantly removed one source of parental grumbling; and then the fact that he’d had to curtail his extra-curricular activities with female postgraduates had removed the other. Really – he’d ALMOST sold-out entirely to The Establishment now!

Max paused next to a wall-display crammed with what looked like comic-book covers; and scowled a bit. Young Drew was almost An Outsider-by-definition, if he was gay. Max had been forced to work hard for his Outsider status; and now it had slipped beyond him. In spite of his cameo-appearance on that Britpop video, he was no longer Cutting-Edge.

Dourly, he totted up all the individual resentments, until he was raring to go for the big Confrontation scene with his kid-brother’s lover. 

He raised his head and glared around. He become aware a little late that he was surrounded by a group of baby-bat Goths, two of whom backed-off apologetically. The rest carried on with their excited squeaking.

“Hey, look! It’s the _Gibbous-Knight_ originals!”

“Cool! That one’s the cover for #2, where he has to let his big brother, Bright-Knight pull him out of the cave after their sister Half-Moon alerts them to the rising tide. Those shadow-effects are REALLY gross. And – see – he’s just about to drop the last match-flame on the floor!”

“He’s so totally Goth – but SUCH an anti-hero; a sorta hero-as-twerp. Hey! Look- Drew’s over there! Let’s see if he’ll sign our zines …..!”

The Gothlings swooped off like an excited rook-flock; and Max followed unobtrusively.

The young artist was surrounded by the time he caught up; and was fielding a number of inane queries with charm and ease. Smarmy bastard!

Max waded in, using his superior height and weight to carve a route through.

“Yes, well I was SUCH a romantic – always wanting to be one of King Arthur’s knights. Only – really – my older siblings were always making life easy for me – killing the dragons before they even got to me, so to speak. That’s how this Gibbous Knight thing started – a satire on my childhood, really. I’m so glad you’re seeing the joke! Oh … hello? Can I help you?”

Max gave a wolfish grin that caused the mini-Goths to retreat. He fixed the youngster with his best glare.

“I’m …”

“Hey! You’re MaXXi-Ess! My God – this is amazing! You’ve been SUCH an inspiration – although I wouldn’t have thought my stuff was … Well, anyway, it’s an honour to see you here. I’m only just BEGINNING to get where you were, five – maybe ten – years ago, y’know? All that mixed-media work with Blobby. And – I mean – that sheep-shit thing was a pisstake, right? … just to see how much The Establishment would swallow ….?”

Max was taken-aback. Somehow he hadn’t reckoned on the youngster knowing about him, and even rating his work. Hastily he scrabbled for an advantage.

“Your stuff’s a bit retro …” he began sticking out a belligerent jaw.

“Oh, I know, I know! That’s what they all say. But of course …“ Barney spread his arms wide, and gave such a blinding smile that it almost Turned Max, in spite of his robust heterosexuality, “ .. you didn’t leave us – my generation – anywhere to go, forwards. So I had to retreat to the cowardly certainties of classical art. All my lot who decided to take you on are only producing weak copies of you, y’know!”

Max did know. He’d been vocal about it in the past; but he didn’t need reminding now.

“Actually, I’m not really here to look at your scribbles …” he began.

“A work commitment, eh? Well, regard it as so much free champagne!” said Barney, unabashed, “So, please – don’t le me detain you!”

“NO!” Max’s voice rose to a bellow, “I’m … “

“He’s my big brother, Barney; sent here by Mum to check up on me,” Will’s voice floated from behind him, “I’m so sorry. I’m sure she didn’t mean for him to intimidate you like that!”

“He didn’t – it’s just Artistic Temperament!” replied Barney airily, “I don’t mind that, y’know, Will. So – “ Barney turned back to him, “You’re Max Stanton in private life? And that’s the musical one – Paul? My-my, isn’t this cosy?”

“Look – “ Max was aware he was sounding defensive, “Mum got upset about Steve’s Mask, and Dad ….. “

“Dad was hoping I’d grow out of This Phase, I expect,” Will interrupted, “Honestly, Max, you should know his little … frailties … by now. Paul does, don’t you, Paul? And the Mask-thing is between me and Barney. I had to really insist before he’d accept it, but he really needs it – for his work, y’know.”

“And what do YOU think you know about Art, young Will?” Max retreated in some relief to Elder Brother Mode.

“Nothing at all!” said Will promptly, “I grew up with YOU, after all!”

There was a shout of laughter behind Max’s back. Unconsciously drawing closer to his brothers to form a tight, defensive group, he swung round.

“Nice riposte, Will Stanton. Still as infuriating as ever, I see! Well now – you won’t believe this, but the APs sent me to check on Barney’s latest fling. Good evening - Dr Simon Drew, at your service. Barney’s elder brother, you know.”

There was an astonished pause; and then a stray Goth piped up –

“You mean THIS is _Bright-Knight_? Oh, man – just WAIT till I tell The Coven! HEY! Guys! Over here!”

In a cloud of sooty makeup, and shrill twitters, the mini-Goths reappeared. Max hoisted the tattered remnants of his dignity like a war-banner.

“I don’t think much of your fan-base, young Barney!” he announced stiffly.

“Plenty of time for it to grow into solid citizenry with money to spend on Art. Hey – folks – go easy there! My brother’s a doctor! He’s not accustomed to Us. And … erm … I haven’t … erm … explained to him about the comic books!”

Any possible standoff collapsed instantly into farce, as Simon was carried off in a crowd of Goths to view his metamorphosis on the display walls.

Will – stepping quietly away to commandeer champagne and glasses, paused thoughtfully; and then stretched out his right hand, fingers splayed in a familiar gesture…..

…..Gary Peck shook his head distractedly, and found that he was surrounded by a carnival crowd of arty types. What was he doing at this weirdos’ convention? He must’ve been out of his mind to think there’d be any juicy gossip here! If he left straight away, he might be in time to catch Madonna trying to visit Guy Ritchie incognito at the Dorchester ....

He downed his glass in one; and made for the door.


End file.
